That’s his Tooth

Today turned out to be a nice warm spring day.  I started it out by mowing the front yard, getting myself a little sweaty and grassy.  Then it was time to take Maddie to her swimming lessons for a half an hour.  It’s an indoor pool, and although well ventilated, the whole place smells like chlorine.

We came home to find an infestation of ants in the house, but they hadn’t yet found any food.  So we embarked on an emergency house cleaning.  Lillian vacuumed and cleaned a bathroom, while I spread ant-killer outdoors.

It’d been a pretty productive day, so we treated ourselves and went to California Pizza Kitchen, the apparent mecca for middle-class parents of babies and toddlers.  We over-ate, and waddled out of the restaurant with our leftovers into the mall, only to find that it closed early, because it was Sunday.  We went to the children’s playground anyway, and we were the only family there.

We all really enjoyed ourselves.  The kids ran freely from structure to structure, and Lillian and I wondered if we’re getting locked in the mall.  When Lillian and I do decide to leave, the kids were having none of that idea.  Lillian and I started walking out the door, and Aaron sleepily started running after us.

Maddie ran up behind Aaron and gave him a push to get him to go faster, but he fell down.  I admonished Maddie just as she fell right on top of Aaron and slammed his head into the floor with her own head.  Then my language got a little stronger, and when Aaron lifted his head, blood was dripping down his face.  I picked him up, and Lillian came running to the site.  Then I noticed the thing.  In the small pool of blood on the floor there was a small, solid, roundish lump.

“Oh, my God.  That’s his tooth!”

Maddie still had her milk from the restaurant.  I asked Lillian for it, so that I could put his tooth in the milk and keep it there until we get to the hospital.  (Is that advise sound?)

I investigated the boy’s face, while Lillian grabbed the tooth and looked at it carefully.  She told me, “I don’t think it’s a tooth.”  And when I looked at it, it turned out to be a blood-soaked red-candy-coated peanut that was already on the floor, but in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Aaron simply had a bloody nose, and it clotted up nicely.

As I write this, I smell of grass, chlorine, sweat, blood and tears.   That little scare has taken two years off of my life.  But boy, am I going to sleep well tonight.